Old Scars and New Scars
by AngelOfPride
Summary: Tired and sore, the last thing Dick wanted was to end up stuck in a room with Damian in the middle of the night while staying with Bruce. However, things don't seem so bad once they find some common ground. Scars. Just brotherly bonding stuff :) Fav and review!


One word. Ow.

He couldn't feel his body- and yet the angry poison of the cuts still crept up his limbs, abdomen, chest, face- places he didn't know existed, or at least didn't want to acknowledge the existence of!

With a groan, Dick sat up, drawing a hand down his exhausted face, "Screw you whoever the fuck you are." he muttered- thinking back irritably to that one gang member who had come at him with a chainsaw. Such lovely souls on the streets nowadays.

He took a long breath, glancing out of the window where moonlight tinted the curtains silver, giving a faint-yet comforting light to the room; the faint glow and noise of the city whispering through despite the wall of glass. Inescapable, yet reassuring.

Deciding sleep was futile, Dick rolled out of his bed. He stretched out his limbs, then instantly regretted it with a wince- glancing down his body at the cuts and gashes that littered his bare chest and abdomen. The worse was a long ugly scar that ran from behind his knee to his ankle- but it was concealed by his joggers, and honestly, he was relieved to be spared the sight of that- he'd see it enough when it scarred.

He sighed, trudging...well, limping, to the door and stumbling out into the hallway- which was lightly lit...wait-what? Bruce hated having the light on at night- couldn't stand it!

Dick clicked his tongue, "God leave for a couple years and the world turns upside down." He muttered, going and trudging down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Within moments of entering, he felt a familiar presence, and a set of eyes that simply said 'fuck off'. Holding in a sigh, he grunted, "Hello Damian."

The boy stood frozen, like a deer in headlights. It would be funny if it wasn't 2:00am. And the fact that this was Damian Wayne. Blood son of Batman and little-brat-shit extrordinare. Funny didn't roll well with this kid.

"Grayson."  
There it is. Suddenly, Dick's wounds don't hurt as bad as his head.

"What'cha doing down here at this time of night?" Dick asked groggily, leaning against the counter.

"It's morning." Damian muttered.

"You know what I meant you little shit."

Damian growled slightly, "Nothing. What brings you here Grayson?"  
"The joys of chainsaws and sleep deprivation." Dick yawned.

Damian huffed, "You let something as tiny as a chainsaw take you down?"  
Dick narrowed his eyes irritably, "It didn't 'take me down'. Besides, I'd like to see you cope with a rapidly rotating jagged blade drilling down your leg."  
Damian snorted, a small light of amusement in his eyes, "Lets see then."  
"What?"  
"The paper cut you're whining about Grayson. Show me."  
"Why you little-"

"-Shit?"  
"Smart ass."

"Dumb ass. Now show."

Dick sighed, too tired to argue over it any more, and rolled on his joggers on his right leg, turning and revealing the nasty wound.

To his surprise, there was no harsh laugh of cruel amusement or small grunt of approval. Damian, for the first time ever, was quiet.

Dick glanced over his shoulder to see if he was dreaming, fallen asleep at the table or something, "You okay there little shit?"

Damian was examining the scar intently, "Interesting. Almost identical to mine."  
"What?"  
"We all have scars Grayson."  
Dick turned fully as Damian reached down and pulled up the leg of his pajamas, turning and revealing an old, pale scar that stretched from behind his knee... to his ankle.

Dick whistled in awe, "Wow. When'd you get that?"  
"When I was five years old."

"How?"  
Damian glanced at the floor, for once, looking a little thrown, "A...purposeful accident during training."  
Dick narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, "Purposeful?"  
Damian shuffled his feet, "Mother decided that it would help my training if I was thrown from security into immediate danger- she believed it would help my reflexes."

"And did it?"  
"Do I seem slow now Grayson?"

It struck Dick rather suddenly, and he almost felt as though he'd found another piece to the puzzle that was Damian Wayne.  
"So you just decided to always be ready for immediate danger." he stated.

Damian nodded, "That way, you're prepared no matter what. You don't feel surprised and so they don't see an immediate weakness. You don't get close to people because then if you lose them you don't feel it."  
Dick winced- these were words that shouldn't be coming from such a young kid.

"But sometimes it's worth getting hurt just to know them." he said softly.

Damian glanced up warily, "How would you know?"  
Dick raised an eyebrow, "You kidding? I've lost both parents- three if you could all the false alarms with Bruce. Had a near heart attack over Barbara. Lost Jason in body and in mind...And a fuck load of other people."

The memories made his head throb, faces and times that were too happy to think of now. Sunflowers and daisies didn't belong in his world anymore.

Damian raised an eyebrow back, "How can that still be worth it? Doesn't it make you look...feel, weak?" the boy shuddered at the idea.  
"It makes you look human."  
"Mother didn't think that. And nor does Father."  
Dick sighed, "Bruce definitely thinks that- none of us would be where we are today if he didn't."

Damian grunted begrudgingly, "He doesn't seem to think that in regards to me."  
Dick narrowed his eyes, "What are you talking about? The guy nearly has a stroke everytime you so much as step out the house."  
"Yeah, because he worries about what I'm capable of." Damian growled, "He doesn't trust me!" he folded his arms, "Not like he does you."  
Dick clicked his tongue-wondering how he had gotten into this situation.

He chose his words carefully, not wanting to set off the miniature ninja, "Yeah. He does, but that's because Bruce knows I can't..._won't, _lose my cool. He taught me everything I know, he'd know how to handle it if I went batshit crazy. You- he just doesn't know the extent of your ability yet."

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair, "You're young. You're bold, you're rash-you jump before you look to see if there's something to catch you. If you learn to keep that temper under your belt, he'll grow to trust your instinct."

Damian glanced at him unsurely, "How would you know? You and Tim don't...'lose your cool'."

Dick smirked, "No, but Jason did...well _does._" the smile faded, "Bruce isn't afraid _of _ you. He's afraid of losing you, like he did Jason. He thinks your on the same road- prove to him your not."  
For the first time, Damian actually looked like...well, a kid, "You mean be a god son?"  
"Precisely kid."

"But...Idon'tknowhow." Damian grumbled.

Dick chuckled softly, earning a bat-glare that could only belong to the blood son, "You'll get the hang of it. Be respectful but also bratty- oh hey look, you're half way there already!"  
Damian glowered, but there was a trace of light-hearted humour in his narrowed eyes, "Does that mean I have to be nice to you and Tim?"  
Dick smirked, "Nah, kids are supposed to be bitches to their siblings."

Damian perked at the word, subtly, but it was noticable. Dick was surprised he'd actually said it, yet it felt natural. The things you do at 2:25am.

"So...you, Tim and Jason are like...my older brother type things?" Damian said carefully.  
"In a way I guess yeah."  
"But not biologically..."  
"Well done Sherlock."

"So...you can help me...you know...be a better son?" Damian asked, almost mutely.

Dick felt a small surge of protectiveness- in the surge of protectiveness at the boy who's shell had slowly melted before his eyes. He stood up straight, stretching his sore back, "Dude- we have matching scars- that's tighter than a tattoo man, I'm stuck with you for life now."

Damian's lips curled up in a smile, just as the door was opened, revealing a crack of light.

"What are you two doing up?"  
"oh...Hey Alfred."  
The old man raised an eyebrow, "Are you aware of the hour Master Dick? Master Damian?"  
"Yep."  
"Of course."  
"And do you normally stand in the kitchen contemplating life and it's meaning at precisely 2:27 in the morning?"  
Heads hanging in shame, "No..."  
"Then I suggest you both get up to bed again. The breakfast bar isn't open until 7:00 at _earliest_."

Both sons of Batman trudged past the old butler, when Alfred suddenly smirked, "And I promise not to tell Bruce you were 'bonding'."

Damian went red with embarrassed rage, Dick rubbing the back of his neck with a smirk, "Probably for the best. Don't think the old man could take that much positivity in his life."

Alfred chuckled as he watched them retreat up the stairs. 


End file.
